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His glance sought Edith greedily, and with
an earnest and impassioned gaze.

She was sad and thoughtful, but, loh, he
thought, how supremely lovely.

What would he have given to speak?

But it would have been insensate madness
to have tried the experiment just then.

The native woman took some orders and then
retired.

The captain could no longer contain him-
self.

He glanced down at the garden. »

None were looking his way.

Advancing to a loophole which overlooked
the garden of the embattlement, he cried:

“Miss Edith!”

She was standing nearer to him than the
others were, and heard without recognizing the
voice. A

“ Who calls?” she gasped, with a terrified
and startled look.

“ Do you not know my voice?” exclaimed
the speaker, with something like a pang, “that
of your devoted friend—Captain Thomson?”

“Heaven! what means this? where have
you concealed yourself l” whispered Edith.

' The captain waved his hand through the
loophole.

“Who are you talking to, Edith?” said Mrs.
Bacon.

Edith explained.

“Brave and gallant soldier,” cried the wor—
thy woman, “are you here to save us?”

“ Or die,” was the answer.

“ Can you give us any hope?” she asked.

But no answer came, though they thought
they heard a strange and mufiled sound.

“ Something must have happened,” cried
Edith. - ”

“They have discovered him,” said Mrs. Ba-
con.

Again strange and gurgling sounds fell on
their ears, which, however, they were unable

a

, to make out what they could possibly mean.

But soon they heard a low groan.

With wildly beating hearts they waited an
explanation.

This is what had happened.

While the captain was speaking with Edith,
he heard a low, cautious step ascending the
side steps of the tower. :

There was no time for retreat.

He stood erectrand firm, but with his hood
drawn over his head, so as only to admit of his
just peering out.

Next instant a negro slave peered in.

Seeing the burnous and boots of a woman,
he approached, and made some demand in a

- guttural tone, at the same time making show

as if to remove the hood.

Not an instant was to be lost.

The captain drew back his hood, revealing
the unmistakable countenance of an infidel
giaour.‘ '

“ W'allah!” cried the astonished black,
standing with open mouth, and arms falling by
his side; “ what dog of a yahoodi is this?”

He then would have turned to summon aid.

But the captain had him by the throat.

He endeavored to cry out, but the grip of
the English soldier was terrible.

He exerted a strength almost double he could
have shewn on ordinary occasions.

But the negro fought for dear life.

He threw out one of his feet, and with the
dexterity of his race in single combat, succeed-
ed in throwing the captain backward.

For one moment he was obliged to let the
other go, but only for a moment.

The black made a frantic effort to scream,
but the Englishman again clutched him, and
the vain attempt ended in a gurgling sound.

The man was strong and desperate.

He saw clearly that his opponent meant
death, and that one only could survive the
struggle. '

He had a yataghan in his belt.

Could he but get hold of this, he would soon
dispatch the hated foe.

Fearful was the silent struggle.

The cloak had fallen off in the struggle, and
left the captain’s arms free.

He saw the negro’s object, and strove more
and more to render him insensible.

But the negro’s left hand was round his
throat, and holding him with the grip of a
wild beast.

Like the wrestlers seeking to win a prize,
they struggled, until at length both paused to
gain breath.

They were panting and exhausted.

The captain relaxed his hold one moment.

The negro with a fearful bound rose to his
feet, and made for the summit of the tower,
where he could give the alarm.

The captain knew that if he reached it alive,
all was lost.

With a gigantic effort he aroused himself,
and sprung after him.

He could have plunged his dagger in his
back, but he scorned the advantage.

As the negro reached the platform of the
tower, the captain clutched his ankle and trip—
ped him up.

Now began another and a terrible struggle.

The men had contrary objects.

The negro strove to drag his opponent to
that side of the platform which overlooked the
garden, where the desperate encounter must be
seen.

Exactly the other way strove the captain.

At length the agility and endurance of the
English soldier, with the superior skill, over-
came the brute force of the black.

He was hurled against the edge of the tower
toward the dry ditch. °

Self—defense, the salvation of the girls, left
the captain no choice.

He must kill or be killed.

The black was leaning over the wall, his eyes
were dilated, he felt himself yielding rapidly,
and strove, as a last resource, to shriek.

“ Die, dog of a black!” said the officer,
sternly, and hurled him over the battlements.

“Poor fellow,” he added, “he only did his
duty after all.”

And, with a sickening shudder, he looked
over and saw him lying crouched and quiet on
the stones below.

His death had probably been instantaneous.

The last desperate struggle had been wit—
nessed by the girls with fearful and agonizing
interest. '

Gently nurtured, amiable and good, the scene
was terrible in the extreme.

All closed their eyes at the finish, and could'
scarcely obey the summons of Mrs. Bacon to
re—enter their quarters, where some attendants
had summoned them to the bath.

The captain wiped the cold, clammy perspi-
ration off his brOw, and descended slowly to

-, his hiding-place.

Necessity had called for the deed the captain
had committed.

Yet he could not help feeling regret for what
he had done.

Doubtless the wretched black would be miss—
ed when a search would be made.

In this case discovery appeared impossible to
be avoided, unless they believed the fall to be
to ‘irlental.

But, be this as it may, he had no resource
but to wait.

At the same time he had reason to believe
the steps by which he had ascended from be—
low safer than where he was.

They were evidently little used.

It was fortunate that no sooner did he con-
ceive the idea than it was carried out.

Scarcely had be seated himself on a step in
the dark and gloomy staircase when he heard
voices above him, the horrid voices of the pecu—
liar guard affected to the harem.

They were evidently rather merrily inclined.

Presently, however, they came rushing
down, uttering hoarse and savage cries.

They had discovered the body of their com-
rade lying in the dry ditch below.

The captain shuddered at his fearful escape,
and resigned himself to remain where he was
until night fell upon the scene.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
THE SLAVE—DEALER.

WHEN Suleiman enabled his accomplices to
escape from the alcove in which they had
been momentarily secreted, he lost no time in
getting out of the palace of the empress-
mother.

He was utterly confounded and much exas-
perated at the unexpected interference of the
moollah.

He believed it to be part of a well-organized
conspiracy to thwart his views.

But how they had been discovered it was

A impossible for him to say.

Nobody ever thought of suspecting the Ar—
menian banker, for the simple reason that all
knew him to be quite disinterested in the
matter. "

They little thought how much influence an
inadvertent word sometimes has on the for-
tunes of individuals.

A whll—known coffee—house stood in front of
the imperial palace, and to this the three ad-
journed.

They saw by the small body of horse out-
side that some sudden. departure was in—
tended.

Smoking their chibouques, and sipping their
cofiee, they waited. Not for long.

The procession soon left the palace, and took
its way toward the outer gate of the town.

“Some treachery has been at work,” said
the corsair, “or this sudden removal would
not have taken place.”

“Your moollah, or priest,” said Sir Thom—
as, “appears to have a great deal of power.

“ He is much trusted by the emperor.”

“And yet he is a renegade,‘an apostate from
his own religion and country,” continued the
baronet. '

“ The mantle of Mahommed covers all sins,”
said the corsair, coldly.

“ I wish I had the accursed moollah, as you
call him, in a quiet corner,” hissed the earl;
“ I’d teach him to mix himself in my con-
cerns.” ' ,

“ Hemwahem !” coughed Sir Thomas; “ then
I would not be in his shoes.”

“ Why?” retorted the other.

“Because you looked rather ugly and vi-
cious just then,” said the baronet, gravely. “I
am afraid you would make a very disagree-
able foe.”

“ Tut, man, why talk nonsense when we
have to consult as to our future' proceedings—
Ah, what is that?” he cried, as three horsemen
swept by in the direction of the retreating cav-
alcade. ,

“The laggers of the escort, I presume,”
said the corsair; “ but what is to be done
now?” i

“ You have not earned your money yet,”
was the rather captions reply.

“ I have not; but I am not going to risk my
head. The taking away, of the English maid—
ens is a warning which you would do well to
take,” gravely'answered the slave-dealer; “it
is written that the girls shall outwit you.”

“ No. We will not give them up.”

“ Your lives are forfeit if you are even sus-
pected,” replied Suleiman.

“Suspected we are by that infernal mool-
lah,” cried the earl, “but that only makes me
all the more resolved to thwart him.”

“ Allah kerim! obstinate men will have their
way. I can easily find whither the girls have
been removed; then, if you persevere in a fool—
ish errand, it is not my fault. Wait; yonder
at the gate is my old friend the purveyor of
the household.”

And he sent a messenger to ask him over to
coffee and pipes.

The grave and reverend officer came over
with a kind of rude alacrity intended as a
protest against _ a servant of royalty being
treated thus unceremoniously, and then on
finding who it was, was graciously pleased to
smile. '

He it was who had admitted the forbidden
visitor to the harem a couple of hours before.

After smoking for some time, the corsair
spoke.

“ Her highness has made a sudden depar-
ture,” he said.

“ Yes,” replied the purveyor, with a fat
chuckle, “ rather unexpected.”

“May I ask—may your shadow never be
less ——if you know where her highness has
gone?” .

“ Well, Captain Suleiman,” said the other,
gravely, “you know we never speak bf such
things, but as you are an old friend, I do not
mind saying that they have gone to the castle
of Iabeah.”

“Oh!” replied the corsair.

After this the conversation flagged, and
finally the slave-dealer and his friends retired
to the residence of the former. ,

Suleiman tried to dissuade his companions
from moving in the-matter any more.

“ Kismet! it is destiny. What is to be will
be,” he said; “ and the girls are provided
for.” I

‘ ‘ Is it more difficult to release them from the
summer garden than from the palace?” asked
the earl.

“ No, but is it worth while?”

“We are the best judges of that,” said Sir
Thomas, rather acrimoniously; “ we have been
very liberal already, and if you aid us to liber-
ate the maidens, no reward shall be too
great.”

Suleiman was avaricious above every thing,
and likea war horse pricking up his ears at the
scent of the battle afar ofi, so did he at the men-
tion of money.

A long conversation ensued, and Suleiman
proposed a plan of unparalleled audacity.

In the hills, at no great distance from the
palace castle, lived a robber chief. He was a
man of the utmost daring, and of fertile re-
sources.

He pretended to be a quiet and innocent
sheik, and as a rule carried on his depredations
at a great distance.

He would disappear with his followers for
several weeks at a time, and then come back
mysteriously, very much the richer for his
foray.

Now this robber chief, he felt confident would,
for a liberal consideration, undertake to enter
the summer palace in the dead of the night and
carry oif the English maidens.

He had some desperate followers upon whom

 

the blame would be cast, and who would, after
ihe outrage, be compelled to leave the coun~
try.

Now came the question of money.

The greater part of the cash raised by the
murderous forgeries of the earl had been dis—
posed of.

But more must be found.

The slave‘dealer suggested their obtaining a
supply from a French banker, a kind of rival
of the Armenian.
of the great wealth of his friends, offered to in—
troduce them.

Suleiman, who regarded the yacht as a proof

‘ ‘ I can not draw for much,” said Sir Thomas,
when they were alone; and then he added, pet-
tishly: “ what can Sir Charles be up to?”

“Am I his keeper?” was the savage reply,
“that you ask me so pointedly about him?”

“ No, no!” cried Sir Thomas; “ only his dis—
appearance, under the circumstances, is so un-
fortunate and unaccountable that I dream of
it.”

“Dreamers and drivelers?” muttered the
earl, turning away fiercely.

“ Murderers and forgers !” added Sir Thomas,
rubbing his hands; “ had you there. Ah!
Earl of Ravensbournemonce we stand on the
soil of a free country you shall pay me for all
this!”

And meanwhile the earl had gone up to his
room, once more shut himself in, and once more
set to work to forge the name of the dead and
murdered colonel. , ’

He knew now that discovery must take place,
but Who would suppose that he, an earl on the
noble roll of England’s peers, would be guilty
of such a crime? ‘

They would rather think the dead man had
overdrawn his balance and afterward commit-
ted suicide.

This Was what he counted on.

Having consoled himself with this reflection,
he pocketed the check, and started with the
corsair Suleiman to visit the French banker.

Sir Thomas looked after him with a cold, sar-
castic smile, from a secret coign of vantage.

“ The sooner you and Ipart,” he said to him-
self, “the better. I knew you for an utterly
unscrupulous man about town, but by Heaven!
I never suspected you to be a forger, thief and
assassin.”

With which muttered observation he retired
to his sitting—room, to reflect upon the course
of events which were advancing with rapid
strides. >

While smoking his pipe and sipping his cof—
fee, a thought, like a lightning—flash, forced it
self upon his aching brain.

He turned pal’e with agitation. The idea was
one fraught with incalculable consequences.

If the three girls never returned to England,
and were reported dead, what would become of
the money left them?

He was sole trustee to the estates, for Mrs.
O’Byrne counted for nothing.

With no claimants for the money, no near
heirs being in existence, what easier than to

transfer the Whole of the vast sums into his

own name?

The tempter even suggested that as probably
the three girls would disappear for ever in the
dreary solitudes of the harem, he might con
tinue to put their names to the receipts, reliev-
ing himself from the liabilities of trusteeship.
A moment before, and he had bitterly ac-
cused the earl of being a forger. Now that he
contemplated the same thing for his own ad-
vantage, the crime appeared to take another

 

shape.

So does the cunning and subtlety of evil sug-
gestions blind us to really stupendous enormi-
ties.

Already he found himself contemplating the
loss of the three girls with wondrous equa—
nimity.

Meanwhile the earl strode along the street
in deep thought.

Hitherto all had gone Well, but how long
could he count on success continuing?

Unless he reached England at a given date,
suspicion would be excited.

Once there, and backed up by Sir Thomas,
he had only to have the money privately paid
in to stop all inquiry.

Forged bills of exchange and checks were
once no strangers to certain bankers. .

They said nothing about them because they
knew they would be paid.

But the earl counted on keeping the estates
of the earldom, and winning the dowry of
Edith Montague. I

There are many sore slips between the cup
and the lip.

The French banker was a slight little wiry
man, who, in an insignificant office of poor ap-
pearance, carried on business with every Euro—
pean state.

Like most of his countrymen abroad, he was
possessed of few samples, and would buy and
sell a slave without any hesitation.

He had on many occasions been brought in
contact with the slave-dealer, Suleiman, and
knew that, although a pirate in the most com-
plete sense of the word, he was safe in all mo-
ney transactions.

Introduced on such respectable authority,
the earl easily obtained money for his forged
bills and checks.

Thus provided he returned to the residence
of the corsair, and made preparations for the
journey to the hills.

(T o be continued—Commenced in No. 235.)

f Gilbert, Illa Guide:

LOST IN THE WILDERNESS.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK,

AUTHOR or “non AND RIFLE,” “ IN THE WIL-
DERNESS,” “ CAMP AND CANOE,” ETC.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE RELIEF GUARD.

TWO days after they left Helen in the cave
at the side of the stream, there marched out of
the camp of Wayne fifty brave foresters with
Clinton Waterman and John Mack at their
head, and Owasco and Gilbert scouting in
front. A strong-limbed, hardy, danger—daring
race, such as had sprung up in the new world
-—men who loved to march and toil, who took
it as their birthright, and did gallant deeds for
glory’s sake. Few of their names live except
in old songs, and the almost forgotten legends
of their day. Yet, that these men lived and
toiled, endured privation and faced danger
with unswerving zeal, the great States they
built up remain to prove.

They marched on foot, for if they had taken
to the river they must have had a hard and
difficult pull up the rapids, and it was thought
better to march by land. They left the river
on their left and turned their faces to the
nortlrwest, to cross the stretch of country con—
tained in the bend of the river.

The countenance of Clinton shone with en-
thusiasm, and a. high and holy purpose. Since
the day when Gilbert and Owasco had come

 

into the fort, bringing the news that Helen was
safe, he had been a new man, and had given
Wayne no peace until they were on the march.
Gilbert saw the exaltation upon that young
face, and smiled as he went on over the tangled
path. He had done some good then. If his
own fate must be a hard one; if he must go on,
hopeless and alone, without a glimmer in his
sky to betray the coming of a brighter morn—
ing, at least he could hope to see others bless-
ed, and he vowed in his heart to do all he could
to bring these two together, who had suffered
so much for each other in these terrible days.

There had been no sign of the enemy since
the coming of Clinton. Gilbert had an idea
that Gandelion might have had something to
do with the withdrawal of the Indians, who
had been threatening the post for some time
before. ,

“ Gilbert, dear,” whispered Pat O’Driscoll,
who had smuggled himself into the command
in a way only known to himself. “ D’ye
think the rid divils w’u’d be pitchin’ intil us
soon?”

“ Keep your tongue between your teeth,
Handy Pat,” said Gilbert. “I’d like to know
how you got here, anyhOW?”

“ D’ye see that?” roared Pat, thrusting out a
ponderous brogan. “ D’ye mind that bit av a
fut? I’ve got the mate til that, and a fine
pair they’d be til walk an the wather. -Whoo!
Whillaloo! Murther! I’d like to see the man,
big or little, great or small, that w’u’d take it
an himself to dhrive me back!”

“Oh, I suppose you must'go, but if you have
any regard for your écalp and would like to
keep it on your head, give your tongue a holi—
day and don’t exercise your brogue too much.
That’s all I’ve got to say. ”

“ Maybe it’s fightin’ wid me ye w’u’d be af—
ther?” said Pat. “ Och, thin, but it’s meself
is always agraable to that same. So pick out
a bit av a kippin off the road, and come at me
wunst.” ‘ *

“ What’s a kippin?” demanded Clinton, with
a light laugh.

“A kippin? Sure an’ that’s a bit av a stick,
like this now, phat ye see in me hand. Glory
till the man that t’ached an Irishman how to
handle a shillalegh, for it’s his natheral weepon.
I’m goin’ to bate the he’d av the man wid the
big mouth, who calls himself Gilbert, the
Guide.”

“Nonsense,” said Gilbert. “ I don’t mean
to quarrel with you, for I rather like you.
But, you must keep more quiet. Put down
that stick, my lad; I warn you.”

Pat was advancing upon Gilbert with this
shillalegh in his and, and a grin ominous of
mischief upon his face. Gilbert Wheeled sud-
denly, and as the Irishman made a leap at
him, he shot out his long arm with lightning-
like swiftness and caught him by the throat
and wrist, wrenched the stick from his grasp,
then shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. So
suddenly was it done that Pat had no time to
think before he found himself powerless in the
iron grasp of the Guide.

“ Let up,” said Pat; “I’m bate.”

“ Do you promise to behave yourself?”

“ Yis; to you ?” '

“ All right; having learned this lesson, I
will make a scout of you yet. You will load
your rifle and stay by Owasco and myself, for
I know you do not fear danger.”

“The divil a bit!” said Pat.

From this hour, during their many dangers,
these two men were constant friends. The re-

 

 

 

 

spect which the Guide had impressed the Irish-
man with by his wonderful strength and agil-
ity, never left him through life, and Pat had
no desire to feel himself in that iron grip
again.

At night they camped in the deep woods be-
side a spring which bubbled up among the
leaves. One of the men, in a. jocose spirit, led
the Irishman to take a drink, and he complied,
but he instantly leaped to his feet, with a hor-
rifled expression on his face, holding his tongue
in his hand and glaring at the man who had led
him to drink, in an angry way. Then he be—
gan to spit like one troubled with a phlegm in
his throat, and to look about for a stick.

. “Now thin, Misther, I’m thinkin’ ye w’u’d‘
call that a nice thrick. Look ye; ye’ll be after
puttin’ some comether on the wather. Phat
did ye put intil it?”

“ Not a thing,” said the man.

“Don’t thry to pull wool over the eyes of
Handy Pat O’Driscoll!” roared the Irishman,
in great ire. “ It’s a pole-cat ye put intil it, I
does be thinkin’. Now I kin bate the hid av
any man that done that dirty thrick. ”

“ Let him alone, Pat,” said Gilbert, who was
laughing heartily. “ The man didn’t touch the
water at all. It’s only a ‘ medicine spring.’ ”

“ A phat?”

“A medicine spring; at least that is what
the Indians call it.”

“Sure then it’s poisoned! Ochone, ochone!
Here am I, Handy Pat O’Driscoll, cut off in the
flower av me youth by a dirty thrick, poisoned,
begorra, by a rid bla’g’ard av an Injin‘. Aroo!
Oh, and was it for this me mither said til me,
‘Pat, acushla, mavourneen delish, go til the
divil;’ an’ so I wint. Give me something to
aise the pain, for I’m stone—dead and kilt enn
tirer wid it.”

“Pshaw; there is nothing the matter with
the water,” said Gilbert. “ We all drink it,
and find it excellent for the health. I take it
that there is a good deal of sulphur in its com—
position.”

“ Say that ag’in!” cried Pat. “ Och, the
howly saints be good to us, but did ye iver
hear such jaw—breaking wurruds as thim?
'D’ye mane that I must die in about tin min-
nits?”

There was a gourd lying by the spring, and
Gilbert took it up and filled it with the bright
water, and drank it off with apparent relish,
and then gave the gourd to Clinton.

“Drink without fear,” he said. “ If a. man
never takes nothing into his month which is
any worse than that, then I say he will live
long.”

“Why do we halt?” said the young man,
eagerly. “ I am on thorns every moment we
remain here.”

“The men need go no further.- After we
get a bit to eat, you and I, with Owasco and
Handy Pat, will go to the cave and find the
little girl, and bring her here. I don’t like
going there with too much of a crowd, for
Gandelion may be around, and he’d like a shy
at John Mack; they’ve met before.”

“ Then you know Gandelion?”

“Why not? Few men in the Indian coun-
try can claim to be unknown to me. Our
people are not so Widely spread that men of
note like the one calling himself Gandelion can
be strangers to a man in my profession. I
know him well, and although he is an enemy,
I esteem him highly. Brave even to despera-
tion, generous to a fault, he can be a subtle
and vigilant enemy or a keen friend. I saw
him, at Harman’s defeat, shoot with his own
hand an Indian who was murdering a wound—
ed man of Purdy’s regiment, although a score
of savages stood near and he was almost
alone. You can trust Gandelion in an emer~
gency.” *

“ You speak highly of him.”

“ And he deserves it at my hands. Now go
and get something to eat, and be ready to
march in half an hour. Owasco is already
prepared, and I will speak to the Irishman
myself.”

“ Why do you take Pat?”

capital scout, if rightly used. He is sharp-
eyed, light—footed and brave as a lion, and
with my training, he will be second to none
in the particular line for which I design him.”

They separated, and Clinton Waterman
prepared a simple meal and sat down to eat,
while the Guide walked over to the fire where
Pat was sitting, devouring venison as if his
life depended upon the amount consumed
within a stated time. He grinned widely as
Gilbert came up and deposited another piece
of venison on the glowing coals.

“I intend to make you an offer,” the Guide
said, “and it remains with you to accept it or
not, as you choose. Owasco and I have been
talking, and we have decided upon taking you
as a companion and teaching you the duties of
a scout and guide, if you on your part will
promise to obey us implicitly for a year, when
danger threatens.”

“ ’Deed an’ I’d be willing to obey the likes
av you, Gilbert,” said Pat, plaintively. “ But
the red naygur; I’m afeard it w’u’d go ag’inst
me conscience to obey him. Not but that he’s
a dacent lad, and I like him mighty well, but
w’u’d I like to be undher him, I dunno.”

“ You must decide for yourself. One of the
great,requisites of a scout is implicit obedience
to his superiors, and unless you can agree to
this, the sooner we part the better. At the
same time the advice of Owasco will always
come through me, so that in reality you have
only me to obey. ”

Pat bit another mouthful out of the venison
in a reflective way, looking keenly at his white
friend.

“ I’ll do it, thin; ye may count upon Pat
O’Driscoll, and whin you say come, I’ll come ,'
and whin ye say go, I’ll go. It’s a barg’in.”

“ Very good. You will go out with us to—
night to the cave in which we left Helen Car-
lyon and bring her into camp, and as this will
be your trial trip, you must be upon your good
behavior.” '

J ustéat dusk the four left the camp, thread-
ing in single file the recesses of the forest, the
Indian leading, Pat second, Waterman in the
center, while the Guide brought up the rear.
They were heavily armed, for there could be
no way of telling what might happen, in a
country infested as this was with hostile sav-
ages, who might be lurking in every covert.
The path they followed was rough and stony,
and brought them, after a toilsome march, to
the gate of the cavern, where the Guide halt—
ed, and signaled to his companions to do the
same.

“Don’t let us scare the little girl by coming
upon her too sudden,” said he. “ I’ll go in
first, and prepare her for your visit.”

He crawled into the opening and was lost to
view, going down into the bowels of the earth.
They waited in breathless expectation, in sol-
emn silence, for his signal to come on, the In-
dian leaning against a rock like a statue carved
in bronze, while the Irishman sat down on a
stone. Then they heard his signal, muffled
strangely, coming up out of the dim depths.
Owasco rose and led the way into the dark
and solemn place, followed by his eager com—
panions. They would have rushed on, heed—

 

 

less of danger, but his voice restrained them,
until they saw far away the glimmer of a dis»
tant light.

“There he is!” cried Waterman, eagerly.
“ Hurry on, chief; have you no regard‘for my
impatience?”

They quickened their steps, and found the
Guide standing in a. dejected attitude beside a.
smoldering fire, but Helen, the object of their
coming, was gone. ‘

CHAPTER XIII.
THE CAVE TRAIL.

A FIERCE light gleamed in the eyes of the
lover, and in his fury he caught Gilbert by the
arm. “ Where is she?” cried the young man.
“ Have you led me here only to find that she
is lost again, perhaps beyond all hope?”

“ Young man,” said Gilbert, “have a little
confidence in me, and do me the justice to
say that I could no more dream that
the man I left so securely could escape, than
that Helen would be in such terrible dan—
ger in the sycamore. It is enough that she is
gone, and that Darromed is gone, but where
they are I cannot even dream. We shall find
them, if they are above-ground, and we will
search for them far doWn in the bowels of the
earth. ,

“ Is there more than one way of escape from
this cave?” said Waterman, humbled by the
manner of the Guide.

“Yes, there are three, and we must first
find out whether they went out the same way
they came in. That shall be your duty, Owas—
co, and find out as quickly as you can. They
have not been gone long, at any rate.”

Owasco lighted a torch at the embers of the
dying fire, and went silently back on the way
by which he had entered, while the Guide
lighted another torch and went to the place
where he had left the chief bound; The thongs
lay upon the hard floor, and had evidently
been untied. There were marks of a scuffle,
and several little articles which Helen had
worn were scattered about the room.

“That’s it, then,” said the Guide. “The
sly rascal slipped his hand loose somehow, and
then untied himself. Ha, what’s this? Blood,
as I live, and from a rather bad wound, too.”

“It is Helen’s,” gasped Waterman. “The
double — dyed villain has killed that swee
girl.” '

“I don’t think it,” replied the Guide, shak-
ing his head. “ On the contrary, I rather
think it is the blood of Darromed, and it will
be a good way to track them. I left the girl
a pistol, well loaded, one of those you gave
her, you know, and no doubt when he got.
loose she fired at him and hit him too. But
she did not aim true enough; you can always
tell when a weak finger pulls the trigger.”

“ Here’s the Injin,” cried Pat.

“What news?” said the Guide, shortly.

“ Darromed did not go out there,” replied
the chief. “Let us search for him, and when
we find him, we will take his scalp.”

Gilbert now took the lead, a pistol in one
hand, a torch in the other, following the bloody
trail which Darromed had left behind him up-
on the white limestone floor. If the young
captain had not been in such agony concern-
ing Helen, he would have been delighted with
the wonder-world through which they were
passing. Lofty passages, with vaulted roofs,
hung with a starry —decked canopy; great
rooms, frescoed by the hand of nature, and all
the wonderful forms into which limestone
shapes itself. And over those white floors the
four men pressed on, while the wondering eyes
of Handy Pat dwelt with new delight upon
each addition to the grand beauties through
which he passed. But Gilbert, never taking
his eyes from those bloody footprints, trod on
steadily and swiftly, pausing now and then to

 

 

 

 

“Because I see in him the making of a‘